Birth of a God
by supertom
Summary: Another prophecy binds Harry Potter in his fourth year, one that no one could have expected. Legends re-emerge and the past becomes the present. From the fire of a dragon, born in tragedy, given in sacrifice, saved through love, the breath of the ancient gods awakens again and the Harbinger rises. Super-powered, god-like Harry. Harry/Multi(?)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.**

Chapter One

Beads of sweat slid from the fourteen year old boy's temple to his chin then dripped to parts beyond his notice. Of course, no one would have blamed him. Beads of sweat were quite natural for anyone, no matter their age, when facing a very large dragon.

Whether or not the crowd of onlookers judged him or not did not cross Harry Potter's mind. Only half an hour earlier, when he had waited in the competitor's tent, he had wondered what the others would think of him when he failed against the dragon; after all, he was the youngest competitor in the Triwizard Tournament. Now, he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry so long as someone would come and save him.

Unfortunately for Harry Potter, curling up in a ball and crying was simply not what Harry Potter did.

His fingers tightened around the holly and phoenix feather wand in his hand. Focusing with all his might on his target, he shouted, "_Accio Firebolt!_"

The crowd grew silent. The dragon stared at him menacingly, smoke seeping from its nostrils and between jaws of massive teeth. Harry swallowed hard. Had the summoning spell worked? He had practiced it time and time again with Hermione but never from this far away. Panic tightened around his heart, and for just a moment, he forgot to breathe.

Then he heard it. A very soft, but growing whizzing of something hurtling towards the Quidditch Pitch.

From over the horizon, in the direction of the castle, a speck appeared that quickly grew into the distinct shape of his broom. A smile crossed Harry's face, marking this small victory. Wasting no time, he broke out into a sprint and met the broom mid-run, leaping over the shaft and taking off into the air just as the Hungarian Horntail let out an earth-shaking roar of irritation.

Harry soared above the stands, the dull, cold air of Scottish autumn whizzing through his hair and robes. Here, he was free. No tournament. No dragon. No Boy-Who-Lived. Leaning forward, he pushed the enhanced broom to its limits. The enchantments powering it pulsed in response to his touch, as if the broom had been made only for him. Suddenly, he knew he could win. He knew he could beat the colossal creature whose wings tore through the air in his wake.

And just like that, the sensation ended. The fleeting sense of euphoria faded, and reality set-in.

Something hard and unrelenting tore into his side with the strength of a freight truck.

The world flashed a blinding white before filling with pain. He heard a scream.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

Hermione was up from her seat and rushing down the stands before she realized it, the scream still hanging on her lips as she pushed passed other students frozen in shock. Fear was not something that often rattled her. It rarely immobilized her. The highly logical portion of her brain usually saw through any incapacitation and ordered her to move, to fight.

At that moment, Hermione found herself at a loss for logic. No fact or fragment of truth rose to help her overcome her fear. No. It was determination, determination to get to her friend who she had just watched fall over 200 feet to hit painfully against the ground.

No spell could help her there.

Vaguely, she was aware of Ron calling behind her, trying desperately to keep up with her, but where the masses of shocked students and visitors parted for the torrent that was her fear, they fell closed to block the struggling redhead. She did not have time to stop. She could not wait. Harry needed her.

Only, she didn't know quite what to do once she got there.

Of course, the dragon handlers that had been standing at the edge of the pitch to stop dragons from escaping or overzealous onlookers from trying to get a closer look at the beasts were no longer present, having rushed forward to wrangle the dragon as the Boy-Who-Lived fell. No one stopped her from darting onto the pitch towards the crumpled form of her friend. She was oblivious to everything else as she desperately struggled to see signs of life from him. Her Anglican roots compelled her to offer a quiet prayer to God and whatever saints were listening. As she neared, her heart fell.

She came to stop before him, tears already forming in her eyes, her knees fell along with her heart, and she collapsed against Harry's oddly twisted, broken body. Her best friend was dead.

"Miss Granger!"

She didn't answer. She didn't look up. Didn't they understand? Her rock, her structure, her constant was gone. Harry, who had been there since that first train ride, who had risked life and limb for her more than once, was gone. She didn't care about their rules or orders. As her reality and sanity caved in, she only wanted her friend.

"MISS GRANGER!" the yell came louder, more insistent.

"_No!"_ she snapped in her head. She clutched Harry tighter.

"HERMIONE, MOVE!"

The ground shook beneath her and a loud crash echoed in the air, breaking through her grief. Her fear gave way to a much deeper degree of terror as the highly logical portion of her brain once more kicked in and informed her of exactly what had just made that noise.

Slowly, she turned her head.

The Hungarian Horntail stood before her, only a few yards away, smoke pouring from its jaws. She saw the flame as it erupted from the beast's mouth. Running would not have helped her. The wave of flame that exploded towards her would have been impossible to miss. Still, natural human reaction would have been to run from such impossible odds or to freeze in terror. Hermione did neither. Instead, she illogically flung herself over the dead friend the fire would not have harmed anyway.

The flames never touched her.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had seen many things in his several decades of life. Magic had always been a fascination that delighted and surprised. No matter what he saw, something new always snuck up on him. But this was unfathomable.

Only a second earlier, as he watched Harry Potter fall to the earth, he knew that the deatheater impersonating Alastor Moody had been the element by which Voldemort slew the Boy-Who-Lived. The prophecy had been fulfilled, and darkness awaited the world. All his careful plans, his strategic waiting, were for nothing. Of course, that was an assumption based on Harry being dead.

Harry Potter was not dead. The Boy-Who-Lived stood in front of a column of flame, hand held out in front of him, clean, flawless school robes billowing around him like clouds of inky darkness. The dragon breath collided against some invisible wall and curled up and away from the young wizard. Hermione Granger sat huddled behind him, untouched and dazed, staring awestruck at her very much alive friend.

The dragon ceased its flame and roared at the young wizard who dared defied it. It took a step forward, massive leg shaking the ground as it did. Dumbledore's hand tensed on the Elder Wand. He drew it with practiced precision, spell already on his lips.

"Stop."

It was only a word, spoken in clear Queen's English, but he followed it explicitly. His voice failed to utter the spell; his arm lowered the unbeatable wand. Others around the pitch and the stands stopped their shouting, running, or casting. Everything froze.

The dragon, powerful and mighty as it was, struggled only a moment, its jaw just barely flexing in refusal before it too followed the command.

Only Harry still moved. He turned, the world frozen around him, and knelt beside his huddling friend. Dumbledore heard the words Harry spoke as clearly as if they had been spoken to him.

"Hermione, it's OK."

The Boy-Who-Lived did not smile. He wrapped his arms around Hermione's shoulders and helped the girl to her feet, stepping back to look at her once she had risen. Then he smiled.

"Better?"

Hermione said something, but her voice did not echo like Harry's so Dumbledore did not hear what she said. Harry barked out a laugh in response, a strange sight considering the morning's events. Though for the first time, Dumbledore noticed that Harry sported neither a bruise nor a bit of dirt. His appearance, in fact, looked better than it ever had. Clean, lean, strong. Immaculate.

The air around them exploded with sound at Harry's laugh. All at once people started shouting. The dragon wranglers were on top of the still frozen dragon almost immediately. Dumbledore's hand once again tensed around the Elder Wand. However, he had no idea what to do. Harry had just done the impossible, a feat the boy seemed unusually apt at performing. This time, though, Dumbledore did not have an explanation of ancient wild magic to explain the impossible.

"Albus, what just happened?" asked a flabbergasted Minerva McGonagall as she stepped next to him.

He did not immediately answer; for, the answer took quite a bit of effort. It was the only one to which he came, and it spelled out a bad omen for them all, one much worse than Lord Voldemort could ever be. Yet, it was an answer nonetheless.

He swallowed and said in a low, haunted voice that tremoring ever so slightly, "The birth of a god."

* * *

"_There are moments in the existence of every civilization that historians can point to and classify as pivotal stages of development. Whether those moments represent the fall or rise of a civilization depends largely on several factors. The death of Harry Potter did not depend on any of them. It simply wracked the wizarding world to the core and changed the destiny of every single magic user alive, present and future."_

_-The New Wizard, by Professor Amos Lancaster, LVO, New Oxford University_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created and owns Harry Potter.**

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews. I appreciate them. Here is another chapter to prove it.**

Chapter Two

When he woke, things moved slower than he remembered them moving. The first sensation he realized was the pressure of another person on top of him. He did not need to open his eyes to know that it was Hermione. Her shape pressed against him with its familiar curves and smell. The situation did not scare him as it should considering their awkward position and the looming dragon.

The second sensation came as a feeling that was not at all physical. Power. Something powerful stood only a few yards away, its presence almost smothering. It was ancient, though not in its physical age. This beast came from a line as old as magic itself. Its existence permeated every drop of the surrounding air.

Harry did not hesitate as the gout of flame left the creature's mouth. He felt the heat of the flame, the pressure of the air changing as fire consumed oxygen and exploded in the vacant space between them. Harry slid from beneath Hermione faster than she could realize, moving with speed greater than he ever had before. The world around him crawled by next to the incredible swiftness that powered his legs. Thinking not of the danger it could pose, Harry stepped in front of the dragon's breath, held out his hand, and looked into the approaching inferno.

Suddenly, the will of the dragon touched his mind. All of the experiences, the emotions, and the trials of the great beast and its ancestors came crashing down on Harry. He planted his feet and held the fire in his gaze, refusing to relent under the pressure of the dragon's will. He thought of Hermione, his friend. His truest friend. He thought of her running to him and covering his broken body with her own. He thought of the desperation in her grip, the pain in her ragged breathing. At once, he shoved those thoughts into the flame.

The will of the dragon did not break, but the flame parted against the wall of thoughts and fell away, leaving Hermione and Harry unharmed. It roared in defiance and took a heavy step forward. Harry strengthened his conviction and narrowed his eyes.

"Stop," he said, authority clinging to the word. He mastered this moment. No beast controlled his fate.

The world, already moving so slowly, froze around him. He sighed. This was going to get annoying. Perhaps he should look at renegotiating terms a bit. He groaned silently. That meant lawyers. Lawyers were almost as vague as centaurs.

Forcing himself to move slower, Harry turned towards Hermione. She was still huddled on the ground, unaware that he had moved. The sight was almost comical but he could not bring himself to smile. The circumstances were too serious. Kneeling, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and laid the other hand on her arm. She resisted only a moment before melting into him, the fact of him being alive and well too great for her to comprehend. Once she was settled on her feet, Harry let go and stepped back. Finally, he smiled.

"Better?"

Hermione's mouth opened, but nothing came out. She closed it, swallowed, and managed to whisper, "Bloody hell."

A laugh burst from his mouth before he could stop it. Jovially, he pulled her into a hug. "Thank you for what you did today," he said into his ear.

Tuning out the commotion behind him, he heard Hermione say into his chest between sobs, "You were dead! I saw you die!" She shook in his arms.

He only tightened his embrace. "Of course I didn't. I'm pretty sure I would have remembered that."

Hermione didn't buy it. She pushed off from him slightly without fully leaving his embrace. "You did," she insisted. Her hands held onto his robes like vice-grips. "I saw it. You were broken."

Inwardly, he groaned. He should have considered his appearance. That would cause a lot of questions. Maybe he could just ignore them.

"It's ok, Hermione. I'm fine." His tone said that the topic was finished, but Harry knew better than to think that his friend would let it go that easily.

For just a moment he saw her familiar glare and that made his heart warm even more. How long had it been? Pushing the thought away, he gave her a final squeeze and said, "I have to get an egg now."

Somehow, Harry managed to snake his way out of her grasp and turned back towards the restrained dragon. Casually, he walked across the pitch to where the golden egg rested atop an outcropping of conjured rock. The horntail snorted somewhere in the background; likely, it was the only sound it could make. He had been rather forceful.

Harry picked up the leg and walked to the judges table. Most of the judges were standing, except Karkaroff who appeared to be frozen to his chair, looking much paler than normal. Harry sat the egg down on the table and walked to where Dumbledore and McGonagall stood watching him.

Strangely, the Headmaster's wand brushed against his senses as though it were sentient. He barely he resisted the temptation to reach out back to it. In his experience, objects that were capable of action independent of their wielders were inherently dangerous and should never be trusted. Especially magical objects.

"Professor, I have completed the task," Harry said, looking up at the taller wizard. "Though there might have been a bit of outside influence. I really can't be blamed for that."

It spoke to the elderly wizard's credit that he did not hesitate in answering. Looking through his spectacles at Harry, Dumbledore said casually, "Of course, Mr. Potter. Completely understood, all things considered." Then he paused before adding, "Please continue to the Champion's Tent."

Harry nodded and left.

* * *

"Dumbledore, you can hardly award him any points! He must forfeit this round!"

Dumbledore sighed and stared across the tent at the darkly dressed Bulgarian. "Igor, you know as well as I that the tournament rules require points to be awarded. He cannot simply forfeit."

The meeting had already been going on for thirty minutes. The crowds were growing restless, especially after Harry's miraculous performance. Karkaroff seemed intent on awarding Harry zero points. Normally, the judge's deliberation would not last so long, but the extenuating circumstances required it.

"But he did not even get pass the dragon! The handlers had to intervene!" Karkaroff shouted.

Dumbledore held up his hand. "You are, of course, entitled to your own opinion of the matter, Igor." He leaned forward against the table. "But none of the rest of us are questioning that Mr. Potter stood up against the dragon more effectively than any of the four champions."

For once, Karkaroff did not have an immediate reply.

The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted. "But Dumbledore, how did he perform so well? The fire ward is obvious, but it was almost as if the dragon followed his instructions. Then there is the fall. Almost 200 feet! How? He survived it without a scratch! His robes weren't even ripped!" exclaimed Bartemius Crouch from a corner of the tent.

The headmaster turned towards the wizard that stood in the corner. Until then, the only government representative present – no one would dare confuse Ludo Bagman as such – had not spoken. In fact, he had spent most of the meeting not paying attention. Even now, he only seemed partially attentive. Dumbledore wished Crouch has stayed silent. Today's events were going to be hard enough to explain away. Protecting Harry would grow more difficult. Then again, considering the dragon, maybe Harry would not need near as much protection.

"Yes, the events are strange, but they are feats of magic that powerful wizards would be capable of performing," Dumbledore responded.

Karkaroff snorted but did not add anything. Crouch, meanwhile, raised a skeptical eyebrow and turned his attention fully to Dumbledore. "Exceptionally powerful wizards only, Dumbledore. Would you even be able to subdue a dragon so easily?"

Dumbledore smiled. If only the man knew. His work with dragon blood had come with a lot of field experience. "Perhaps not, but for quite some time, we have known Harry Potter to be an exceptionally gifted child."

And he would be having a lengthy conversation with that child very soon.

"Fine, Albus," Karkaroff conceded. "I will not give the boy nothing, but his score will reflect his subpar performance." Karkaroff turned to leave with a twirl of his staff, sparks flying as it hit the ground. He stormed from the tent.

Again, Dumbledore sighed. He pushed away from the table and rose, absently pushing his spectacles up on his nose. "There is little else to be said, my friends. We should rejoin the crowds. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to calm the crowd. We all have students to which we must return."

* * *

Night had fallen and dinner had passed before Harry finally found a moment to himself. He sat in one of the plush chairs in the Gryffindor common room, staring wistfully into the fire. At one point, after Harry had been awarded second place by only a point, Ron had emerged to congratulate him and apologize. Of course, Harry had forgiven his old friend. How could he not have? After all, teenage boys were meant to argue and fight. It forged friendships and all that. However, he preferred this moment to the reunion.

The silent common room filled him with nostalgia. He quietly remembered the first three years at Hogwarts, and all those many, many decades that followed. How many times had he sat in this very common room, or one of the others for that matter, only to watch the ghosts walk by him? How many times had he seen his friends' ghosts among the others?

He looked over to the bushy haired girl who had fallen asleep in the armchair next him. She slept quietly, her lips slightly parted. If he waited long enough, a bit of drool might fall from them. Harry smiled. Here, now, she was innocent. That would not last.

He turned back to the fire and stared into the abyss of the flame. It marred everything around it, burning the wood and filling the air with smoke; yet, the heat warmed him. The double edge of the flame seared its way into his brain as he lost himself within its dance. Yes, the fire represented his path.

A path along which he must maintain a careful balance.

* * *

"_Legend is something humans create when a figure comes along that makes great change. Never has a legend been quite so clouded in mystery than the one that describes Harry Potter falling in love. One account may say that it was simply love at first sight. Others may say it was forged upon a long road to a great destiny. The truth behind the great tragedy may never be known, but I like to think that it happened on a quiet night in the common room."_

_-The Rise of the Imperial Throne, by Elois Lovegood-Scamander_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created and owns Harry Potter.**

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews. They mean a lot. As a show of appreciation, here is the next chapter. The fanfic will soon be raised to M due to mature themes.**

Chapter Three

The next morning brought an early snow. Plunging temperatures and blankets of white covering the icy ground only increased the mystique surrounding Harry. While the earlier shunning and whispering by his classmates had been annoying, their awestruck expression and barely hidden fear was by far worse. Only Hermione and Ron managed to work up enough courage to spend an extended amount of time with him. Even Ron, still on shaky ground following their reconciliation, hesitated when making eye contact with Harry.

Hermione possessed no such qualms. To the contrary, she fell into an easy place at his side, choosing to sit next to him at breakfast rather than across from him like normal. Every now and again, Harry would catch her staring at him out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to meet her gaze, she would be concentrating on her meal, staring fixedly at the plate in front of her.

"Are you alright?" Harry whispered. Ron, too busy eating, did not notice.

Hermione's head shot up and turned to him, eyes wide and startled. "W-what do you mean?" Her voice quivered, allowing a slight stutter that was very uncharacteristic of the usually eloquent witch.

"Well," Harry started, "you haven't taken a bite of your food all morning, but every time I look at you, you are staring at your plate. Either you are sick or you are preoccupied."

She shrugged. "No, I'm fine. Just not very hungry."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I know you better than that," he said. "You haven't been able to let a problem go unsolved since you first saw Fluffy standing on that trapdoor first year. Are you honestly trying to tell me that you aren't thinking about answers to the first task?"

"You don't have to act so smug about being right," she replied, eyes narrowing.

He smiled and took a sip of pumpkin juice. "OK, ask your questions."

"Here?" she said, clearly surprised by his willingness.

"I have nothing to hide."

She didn't speak for a moment – quite a feat considering the person. She frowned. "That is strange. You have never been so open when you had a problem." Her eyes widened once again, and she slapped a hand to her mouth to cover the gaping opening that it made. "Oh, Harry! That came out wrong! I didn't mean to say-"

Harry reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, it's OK. You're right. I can be a right git sometime."

She smiled but didn't argue. There wasn't really much she could say to argue with that. Harry had been sullen at times and often hid the major problems from her and Ron. Harry didn't blame her for calling him on it.

"OK, go ahead and ask," Harry insisted.

The next few minutes were spent with Hermione questioning Harry on possible charms and spells he could use to produce the same results as he had the previous day. Through it all, Harry managed to explain in detail spells and wards he claimed to have learned while she spent time with Ron prior to the first task.

"But Harry, how did you learn all of it? The time and power alone would mean that most wizards and witches never learned half of it," she pointed out.

Harry would have answered what he had prepared, but a sensation touched the back of his mind, one he knew well. "Hello, Professor," he said.

Hermione looked at him strangely before a voice interrupted her thoughts. "Good morning, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger."

"P-professor," Hermione managed to stutter in greeting as she turned to face the source of the voice.

Standing behind them, Albus Dumbledore loomed. For most wizards and witches, being in the presence of the most powerful wizard of the age tended to be rattling. Fortunately for Harry, Dumbledore was only a shade of intimidation compared to a Hungarian Horntail. He turned his head and looked the elder wizard in the eye, "What can I do for you, sir?"

Dumbledore didn't miss a beat. His smile only deepened and the ever present twinkle sparkled madly in his eye. "I, too, would like to know the answer to Miss Granger's question. Perhaps we could retire to my office?"

Harry expected such an encounter would come at some point. There was no reason to put it off. As he had told Hermione, he had nothing to hide, at least not from Dumbledore.

"Alone, just you and I," stated Harry. It was not a question. While Dumbledore might be able to handle the information, he was not about to put Hermione through it. Not yet. He had too much riding on his relationship with her to leave her broken and confused.

"Of course, Harry," he replied, his twinkle diminishing slightly. The lines in the corner of his mouth tightened.

Unfortunately, Hermione did not agree. She reached out and took his hand tightly. "No," she pled, her voice small, desperate.

She met his eyes with her plea, and what Harry saw worried him; for, locked deep within her gaze was a not-so-small amount of fear. That wasn't good. If she felt that way now, it would only grow. Had the first task really hurt her so much? It took everything Harry could not to grind his teeth. Again, this had not been part of the deal.

"Don't worry. I'll come back," he said.

"Yeah, Hermione. Let 'em go. We can go out in the snow," piped in Ron, somehow tearing away from his food. He looked at Harry. "Catch up with us there?"

Harry stared at Hermione. What should he do? Dumbledore was right. They needed to have the conversation, but something told him leaving Hermione alone was not a good idea. Listening to one's intuition could be valuable; however, his intuition had a habit of making him over-paranoid. Squashing the feeling, he patted her hand gently. "I'll meet you outside."

Reluctantly, Hermione let go as he stood up.

"Shall we, Harry?" Dumbledore asked with a swish of his hand.

* * *

Magical. It was the only word Dumbledore could use when he laid eyes on Harry. Every cell of the boy's body teemed with magic, as if he had been soaked in it. Harry Potter had never felt like that before. No student had. Yet, the boy who sat across from him was undoubtedly Harry Potter. Every tracking spell or device attuned to Harry affirmed this to be fact.

"What is it you wanted to ask, Professor?" Harry asked, his face empty of emotion.

Dumbledore stared back across his desk at Harry. He leaned back in the chair, his right hand casually resting on the spot that concealed his wand. "Who are you?"

For the first time, Harry's façade cracked. The blank slate of emotion on his face twisted into one of surprise. "What?"

* * *

What did the headmaster mean? How? How could he have guessed he was anyone else but Harry Potter?

"I mean exactly as I said, Harry. Who are you?" Dumbledore asked again.

Harry froze. His stomach twisted into a ball of nerves. Was he ready to explain that Harry Potter had died? Was he ready to spell out every death he ever experienced just so Dumbledore could understand? The answer was simple.

Yes.

For centuries he had waited for this moment. Countless centuries, step after step, he had waited for his time, carefully planning for the moment that he once again sat before Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wtichcraft and Wizardry. Now, after all that time, he could tell everything.

"Harry Potter died, sir."

Dumbledore did not waste any time. As Harry expected, the Headmaster took up his wand almost instantly. The first spell sped at him with incredible speed, but Harry was faster, inhumanely so. By the time the spell reached him, only an empty chair remained. It shattered as the red light of the reductor curse destroyed it.

Harry did not bother with a wand. It would limit what he was capable of doing. Pulling at the natural magic of the castle, he bathed himself in power, covering his body in shadows. The wild magic he called forth bundled itself before him. He reached out and touched it with his hands. It struggled to come out of his grasp but he refused to give in.

A spell hit his shadow wall, shaking the powerful shield with amazing ferocity. That surprised him. Dumbledore was stronger than he remembered. However, he wasn't going to give up that easily. With a push, he threw his hands out and sent the ball of energy in a shockwave, slamming into every solid surface in the room. Bookcases splintered, objects broke, and parchment flew around the room, ruined. Somehow, Dumbledore managed to spin out of the wave.

"Impressive, Harry." Dumbledore launched another spell at the shadows. This one collided with the shield and spider-webbed across the surface.

The webbing glowed and collapsed, sending the barely controlled magic hurtling in all directions. Casually, Harry stepped through the wild magic and threw his hands out once more. Double fireballs erupted, one striking Dumbledore's desk, the other striking the stunned man. Yet, as soon as it made contact, the headmaster turned to ice. The fireball dissipated, leaving behind a thawed out but whole headmaster.

Dumbledore stepped forward. The water from the melted ice swirled into a cyclone and shot at Harry, smacking him hard, but the Boy-Who-Lived was not rocked by the water spout. He waved his hand and the water smashed to the floor.

"Enough," Harry said, his voice deepening and echoing like it had on the pitch. From his fingers leapt white hot lines of electricity. Intensified by left over water, it struck Dumbledore with a pop that resounded throughout the office. Flames in the fireplace flickered; Stones in the wall rattled; thunder roared in the background.

Dumbledore flew backwards, landing in a crumpled heap against one of the ruined bookcases. The old man tried to raise his wand, but Harry held out his hand and touched the same power in the wand that had called to him on the pitch. It jumped from Dumbledore's hand and came to rest casually in Harry's outstretched palm.

"My name is Harry Potter," he said, staring at Dumbledore. The light in the fireplace blinked out. Only a few solitary candles lit the room, covering it in an eerie darkness. "I have lived and died a thousand lifetimes. I have watched you fail and watched you succeed. Now is the hour that I must intervene. By the breath of the Ancients, I live. Stand against me and you will fail; for, I am the Harbinger. This world exists at my pleasure, Albus Dumbledore."

* * *

"_I joined him that day. If I had known what I know now, it is likely my decision would remain the same. When I looked into Harry's eyes that morning, it was like staring into the Sun. There was simply no room left for me; his light was too great."_

_-From the journal writings of Albus Dumbledore_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created and owns Harry Potter.**

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews. They mean a lot. As a show of appreciation, here is the next chapter. The fanfic is now rated M due to adult themes in some chapters. Yes, this includes scenes of both violent and sexual natures.**

Chapter Four

White blankets of snow coated the ground beneath a dreary grey sky. Students darted back and forth across the school grounds. Snowballs flew across the open fields, crashing against the walls of makeshift forts. Shouts and curses intermingled with the flying snow to make passing across the grounds a treacherous journey.

Hermione and Ron took one look at the chaos and sprinted, bobbing and weaving in an impossible attempt to remain unscathed. By the time they were done, snow clung to their coats and loose strands of hair, but both were laughing.

Ron led them to a quiet spot by the lake that the trio often frequented. A single tree stood tall near the bank. Branches spread out and covered the edge of the lake and the rocky shore. A girl with pale blond hair sat upon the rocks staring serenely into the murky waters of the lake. Her large, silvery grey eyes were fixed on a something that Hermione could not see.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

Ron nudged her sharply with his elbow, shaking his head frantically.

"Of course," the petite girl said without looking their way. "I am just waiting for the zipums. They live in the dark waters of the lake, you know?"

Hermione shared a look with Ron who just shook his head.

"Umm-" Hermione started.

The blonde girl interrupted, "You shouldn't start a sentence with 'umm.' People might get the wrong idea."

"The wrong idea?" Ron asked despite the pained look on his face. After the words came out, he looked as though he might curse himself.

The blonde girl looked up from her staring and said in a calm monotone, "They might think you've been infested with something. Nargles can do that to you."

Hermione did not know whether to take the girl serious or not. Treading on the safer side of things, she nodded, "Right." Stepping over to the rocky bank, she held out her hand. "I'm Hermione."

"I know who you are, of course. Everyone knows who you two are. I'm just Luna," the blonde replied, though she did not take Hermione's hand. "I think we better leave, Hermione. Your friend, Ronald, looks as though he might be constipated."

"I am not!" Ron exclaimed. His face turned a new shade of purple with which Hermione was unfamiliar.

Luna cocked her head to one side and frowned. "You really look as though you might be. Perhaps you should see Madam Pomfrey. She helped me quite a bit when I had my first monthly." She turned to Hermione. "My mother died, you know?"

"Umm," Hermione mumbled as Ron's face went from purple to red.

Luna stood up. "We should leave." She walked over and grabbed Hermione's hand. "Come on," she pled. Her gaze was focused on a spot over Hermione's shoulder.

At first, Hermione wanted to ignore Luna's request, but something told her to follow the petite witch's gaze. What she saw made her reach for her wand.

Only a few yards away, blocking their clearest way back to the school walked a group of familiar Slytherins and a few of the burlier Durmstrang students. The slimy sneer on Draco Malfoy's face told her all she needed to know. They weren't there to make nice.

"Well, well, well, look what we found," Malfoy leered, "Potty's gang and little Looney Lovegood. This should be fun."

"Piss off, Malfoy," Ron said, puffing out his chest.

For all his bravery, Ron often did things that made Hermione realize that he lacked the common sense to know when to use it. Malfoy and the Slytherins outnumbered them. It would have been wiser to try and diffuse things with diplomacy. Automatically jumping to insults just made things more difficult. Her hand tightened on her wand.

"We don't want any trouble, Malfoy. We were just leaving," she said. Grabbing Luna and Ron's hand, Hermione tried to worm her way around the group.

Crabbe and Goyle moved to block their path, wands in hand.

"Now, now Granger, don't be so hasty. You and I have a little unfinished business," Malfoy said. His eyes narrowed. "I think we both remember that punch last year." He moved closer.

Hermione swished her wand in a wide arc. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Malfoy was a pureblood. He had been trained since he was young to duel and to intimidate. While he might seem like nothing more than a schoolyard bully, he did have the skill to back it up. Hermione's spell died against his hastily erected shield. Even worse, the Durmstrang students backing him up had their wands out as well. Disarming and stunning spells hit Hermione while Crabbe and Goyle disarmed and grabbed Ron.

"Hermione!" he cried, struggling against the two larger wizards.

Luna stepped back, shaking and crying as Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson came at her.

The stunning spells did not knock Hermione out. They did, however, freeze her in place. From the ground, she stared back as Malfoy walked up to her. He knelt down and brought his free hand to her face. Cupping it gently, he said, "There are so many ways you could make it up to me, Granger." His wand fell to the front of her shirt. "I can think of a way I would really enjoy."

A minor cutting spell oozed from his wand, gently cutting the fabric of her shirt. It split open down the center, falling to each side to expose creamy, soft skin and a light blue bra. Hermione's breathing sped up. She tried her best to struggle, but the magic held.

Malfoy did not stop. He held up his arm and slid the wand back into the holster on his forearm. He brought a finger to the top of her chest and traced the outline of her collarbone before bringing the finger to the top of her small, developing breasts. "They are a little small for my taste, but they will do." His eyes met Hermione, and she saw the lust and anger in them.

Right then, she knew what would happen to her. She had heard stories of women in this situation, but never did Hermione think that she would be one of the statistics. She wanted to yell, to scream, to fight. Where was the savoir to come and take away the bad guys? Where was the magic that would let her spell away all the evil? Why was she so alone? So vulnerable?

As Malfoy's hand found the inside of her stocking covered leg, she felt a shiver that never manifested. His hand moved slowly up her thigh, but his eyes never left hers. He stared with those angry, distant eyes, promising pain and humiliation, and when his hand came to rest between her legs, she felt both of them.

* * *

Harry left Dumbledore's office shortly after their duel. After he released Dumbledore from the spell, the old man spent the next few minutes apologizing and warning Harry of the responsibilities of power. Surprisingly, he did not try to forbid Harry from being around students or ask that he continue school (Harry intended to do so). The old man was infatuated with him, literally brought to his knees by awestruck wonder at the Boy-Who-Lived. If Harry had allowed it, Dumbledore would have been content to spend hours questioning Harry on who and what he was. The explanation, however, was not complicated.

He was both Harry Potter, and he was not. While his identity and physique remained the same, he could not claim to be the same boy who had summoned his broom against the dragon. Oh, he had been that boy many times, but those many lifetimes were now melded together to complete one person who was an amalgamation of all the Harrys he had once been. Of course, he did not tell Dumbledore why. That deal was not something he was going to share easily. Too many people could be hurt by it if certain beings discovered it.

A sense of urgency had driven Harry to end the meeting quickly. For some reason, he wanted to be near Hermione. While this did not worry him, the urgency did. Like before the meeting, his instincts told him Hermione should not be alone, and the feeling was only growing. By the time he had made it to the Entrance Hall, he was sprinting, pushing past students and professors alike.

"Mr. Potter!" shouted an indignant Professor McGonagall after he ran into her.

He didn't bother to apologize. Hermione needed him.

Bright sun hit his eyes when he burst through the heavy doors guarding the entrance. The grey sky had parted, allowing the golden rays to fall to earth. Already, the snow was starting to melt under the warmth of midday. Students were still trying to cling to the mushy ice, but the snowball fights were starting to resemble water balloon fights.

Harry knew where Ron and Hermione would have gone. They always went there when they didn't have anything to do. It was isolated and quiet; plus, it was out of the view of the castle and certain nosy members of the Harry Potter Fan Club.

He came up on the clearing by the tree quickly. Strangely, as he turned the last bend, a ward pressed back against him, sending shocks of resistance through his limbs. A ward. Something was definitely wrong. Harry pulled out his wand, choosing to go with finesse rather than brute force. Sometimes, it was better to not be showy and just get stuff done.

"_Comminute!_" he commanded and pressed his wand against the invisible barrier. A soft purple glow spread out from the end of his wand and spider-webbed across the ward. It was the same spell Dumbledore had used against his shield earlier, and like that spell, the webbing flashed and collapsed the ward with a loud bang.

Harry didn't need any explanation. As soon as the ward collapsed, he saw Malfoy on top of Hermione with his pants around his ankles. He praised whatever god was listening that he had not gotten any further. Hermione was still dressed except for a rip that left her shirt in ruin.

"_Diffindo!_" Harry shouted. The cutting curse shot out from his wand and sliced into the back of Malfoy's knees before the pureblood could react. "_Accio Malfoy!_"

Normally, a summoning charm would not be able to summon a person, but the power that Harry put into it defied all the rules. The strength of his will was enough to compel the ambient magic in the air to respond to his request. It caught Malfoy around the middle as he fell and drug him over the rocky ground, leaving a thick trail of blood behind him.

Harry grabbed Malfoy around the throat and threw him to the ground. The pureblood cried out in pain and tried to move away, but Harry was quicker. His foot kicked out and hit Malfoy in the crotch. He left his foot planted between Malfoy's legs and stepped forward, putting most his weight on Malfoy's genitals.

By this time, the others had gotten over the shock of the ward collapsing and were starting to throw curses at Harry. Harry ignored them and pulled magic from the air, causing his shadow shield to surround him. The spells collided with the barrier, but none were even a small fraction of the strength Dumbledore's had been.

"You bastard," Harry hissed, pressing even harder on Malfoy's groin. The Slytherin screamed in pain but Harry didn't care. He wanted the platinum haired wizard to feel the pain. He wanted the boy to never be able to perform such an act again. "Give me one reason why I should not kill you here and now."

Somehow, Malfoy managed to stammer out an answer through the pain. "M-my f-father."

Harry grinned and moved his foot. He kneeled beside Malfoy and brought his wand to the pureblood's throat. "Wrong answer. _Diffindo!_" A small, thin cut appeared on one side of Malfoy's throat and trailed after Harry's wand as it moved to the other side of the pureblood's neck. Harry stood and walked out of the shadowy shield, smiling as Malfoy choked on his own blood.

Once again the spells flew at him, but Harry dropped to the ground and rolled under the barrage, coming up in a crouch. He waved his wand around him and shouted, "_Flante!_" A shockwave exploded around him and crashed into the others. Pulling at the strings of the magic, he managed to narrow its focus slightly so that it missed both Ron and Luna. Meanwhile, the Durmstrang and Slytherin students were thrown to the ground. Several snaps were heard as bones broke. Through it all, Harry did not so much as breathe hard. He stood up, neither sweat nor blood staining him, his clothes in perfect order.

He ran over to Hermione and scooped her in his arms. She was unconscious. "Ron!" he shouted. "Take her to the infirmary." He handed her over to the redhead who nodded but did not meet his eye. After making sure she was safe in his arms, Ron ran towards the castle as fast as he could.

Harry was not done. He knew that this situation was not natural. He felt the chaotic darkness involved. Someone with a high level of power had orchestrated it, and Harry knew exactly who it was. He strode over to the tree where Luna was huddled on the ground, shaking.

"Get up," he said calmly.

Luna looked up, her silvery gray eyes full of tears. "I tried to warn-"

Harry didn't let her finish. He reached down and grabbed Luna by her hair. With a tug, he drug her to her feet and slammed her against the tree with enough force that it should have broken the petite witch.

"No, please!" Luna screamed.

Harry's hand slid to her throat. "Do not play games with me, Hecate!" he roared. The voice that came out of him was laced with power. The tree bent slightly as if it were trying to lean away from him. The ground shook, and the Great Lake rippled.

The petite, pale blonde girl looked back at Harry, suddenly dried of tears. Her wide eyes narrowed, and she frowned. "Take your hand off me, mortal."

* * *

"_There was no doubt that Harry killed Malfoy. Everyone knew it, but no one could prove it. Then again, the only ones that wanted to prove it were his parents. The rest of us, even us Slytherins, were glad to be rid of him."_

_-Daphne Greengrass in Witch Weekly, Volume 63, Issue 6_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created and owns Harry Potter.**

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews. They mean a lot. As a show of appreciation, here is the next chapter. **

_Harry's hand slid to her throat. "Do not play games with me, Hecate!" he roared. The voice that came out of him was laced with power. The tree bent slightly as if it were trying to lean away from him. The ground shook, and the Great Lake rippled._

_The petite, pale blonde girl looked back at Harry, suddenly dried of tears. Her wide eyes narrowed, and she frowned. "Take your hand off me, mortal."_

Chapter Five

Harry's eyes glowed with an emerald fire. He tightened his grip. "I am not in the mood to deal with the manipulations of the Greek pantheon. Why are you in even in Britain?"

Luna snarled, actually snarled. She bared her teeth and her tongue flicked out rapidly. Harry felt a pressure build up around him and realized too late what was happening. The wind rushed at him from all sides and scooped Harry off his feet. The attack slung him across the clearing to the edge of the lake. He landed hard against the rock. Stone cut into his clothes and skin.

_Now I'm angry, _he thought.

Luna was not a witch. No witch could so easily control the elements. All but the most powerful witches and wizards needed wands to manifest their inherent magical ability. Luna was a minor god by the name of Hecate; one with which Harry was intimately familiar. Unlike the major gods and the more ancient deities, the minor gods did not exist outside of time. While they were immortal and possessed great power, they were still subject to many of the same restrictions as mortals. It made them resentful of their more powerful brethren, and they spent a large amount of time expressing that hatred by messing with the lives of humans, particularly magical humans.

Hecate was worse than most. Harry had ran into and befriended her on more than one occasion. She was seductress who went after powerful magical mortals both male and female. Unfortunately, she always managed to get to Harry despite the fact that their relationship always ended in her betraying him. It would be different this time. There was only one catch. Despite being considered a minor god, Hecate was one of the most powerful. While she wasn't at the same level as the ancients or the primordial gods, she packed one hell of a punch.

Harry picked himself up off the ground just as Luna sprang. She leaped across the clearing and crashed against Harry like a sledgehammer. Rolling with the impact, he twisted to the left and dipped his shoulder. His arms wrapped around Luna and shoved her hard into the stones. The stones beneath the goddess cracked.

"You aren't the first goddess I've fought, Hecate," Harry told her. While he knew her, she would not remember him. It was time for them to meet. The fire in his eyes danced wildly. Without hesitation, he met Luna's gaze.

When two magical beings meet each other's gaze, something transpires. Wand-magicals are more in touch with their cores. As such, the effects of the gaze are minimal unless they force a magical connection. The more powerful beings, such as Hecate, will enter into a soulgaze the first time they meet the gaze of an individual. The soulgaze reveals the person's true self, breaking them down to their basic and truest form: the soul. If the other being is powerful enough, they will also be able to see the soul of the other. As Harry and Luna's eyes met, Harry held the connection and pushed his magic forward. He knew that Hecate was powerful. He was betting on it. However, he was not prepared for what he saw in her.

The Hecate he had known possessed a soul of the darkest and vilest of evils. It was twisted and terrible, stained by millennia of manipulation and betrayal. Her entire being was hate. The soul he saw now was bright white. The edges were tainted by a small stain of darkness, but the rest was untouched. Only the most benevolent of beings possessed a soul so clean. Very few of the gods or demigods fit the bill.

Harry broke the stare and jumped up. He doubled over and gasped for air. It wasn't possible! Time did not change like that. The minor gods were constant. They were bound by rules set down by the Ancients. This wasn't possible. Hecate's soul could not be different. Even more so, if it was, she could not have manipulated Malfoy and the others. That meant another power was at play.

Luna was not having an easy time recovering either. When Harry finally regained his breath and managed to slow his heart rate, he looked up to see Luna staring at him open-mouthed. "What?" he asked.

The goddess seemed at a loss for words. She blinked several times before speaking. "You're a god."

Harry shook his head. "No."

Luna frowned. "Don't lie to me. I saw your soul. I saw the power. But how? How can a wizard have the power of a god?"

Harry sighed. He hated this part. "What else did you see?"

Luna stared at him in silence for a moment before answering. She propped herself up on her elbows and said, "Winter."

Harry nodded.

She smiled. If Harry had not just seen her soul, he would think that it was the same grin Hecate always wore when she betrayed him. He felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the winter or the snow.

"So," she said, "you made a deal with Mab."

"Technically, she made a deal with me," he replied. Harry held up his fisted right hand. Pain seared the palm; he tightened his fist against the sensation. When it finally faded, he opened his palm and held it out towards Luna. A snowflake drawn in the golden rays of the sun was burned into his flesh.

Luna gasped. "No." She crawled away from Harry and clambered to her feet. "A deal made and marked by Summer and Winter. You are him!"

"I am," he said simply.

"Your plan won't work, godslayer! You can't fight them!" Luna yelled.

A sad look crossed Harry's face. He held his hand out to his side. The air around it shimmered, and a pale sword appeared in his grasp. "I have no choice, Hecate," he said. He raised the sword in front of him. The blade was made of mithril. Pale and strong, it had the ability to channel magic just like a wand, but it could handle much greater amounts. "Unfortunately, I cannot trust you to stay quiet about that. I cannot let you warn them. I am sorry."

The sword flashed, and the screams of a god reached to the heavens.

* * *

Madam Poppy Pomfrey was not a fool. She had taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for more than three decades. The students that earned a spot in her N.E.W.T. level class described her as a strict perfectionist that accepted no less than the best. They both loved and hated her. She was proud of that reputation. However, for all her rigorous professionalism and detachment, nothing could stop the gasp she allowed herself when she saw Hermione.

Ron burst through the door of the Hospital Wing without a knock or introduction. Madam Pomfrey immediately turned to scold him, but when she her eyes fell on the broken girl he carried in his arms, the only sound she made was sharp intake of air.

"Malfoy did this," Ron said. His voice was stressed. Tears flowed freely down his face. "I tried to stop him, but there were too many of them." He gently placed Hermione on the bed, but he held on tightly as if afraid he might fail her again if he let go. "I tried to stop him."

The boy's barely coherent sobs snapped Madam Pomfrey from her shock. She grabbed him by a shoulder and pulled with surprising strength considering her petite build. "Boy, be useful and get Professor McGonagall. Use the fireplace." Ron just nodded. "Go!" she yelled, prompting him to sprint towards the fireplace.

Madam Pomfrey pushed Ron from her thoughts and looked down at the girl in front of her. The ripped shirt and bruises on her chest made it clear what had happened. To think that something so violent could happen at Hogwarts chilled her to her core.

_Malfoy, _she thought. She knew that the boy was bad blood the moment she first laid eyes on him. Still, she could never have guessed that he would one day result to rape. Closing her eyes, Madam Pomfrey cast the charm to confirm what she feared. An orange glow left her wand and spread over Hermione. She bit her lip and waited.

"Thank God," she said, allowing herself to breathe again. The results were negative. Malfoy hadn't made it to rape. Something or someone had stopped him. But who?

The fireplace flared to life at the other end of the room. "Get back, Mr. Weasley," came the voice of Professor McGonagall. "I am coming through."

Madam Pomfrey would have smiled had the situation been different. McGonagall added a sense of calm stability to almost any situation. Having her there made Madam Pomfrey feel a little better, but she wondered if the deputy headmistress's presence would have any effect here. Could anyone make the situation better?

"Poppy, what happened?" McGonagall asked as she came up behind the healer.

Madam Pomfrey did not look up. Her wand traced over Hermione's upper body, sending spells seeping into the girl's flesh. Slowly, the bruises started to fade. "Someone assaulted her. It appears that they tried to rape her."

McGonagall did not gasp like Madam Pomfrey had. Instead, she whirled around on her heel and grabbed Ron by the front of his robes. "Who did this, Weasley? Speak, boy!"

Ron tried to stammer out an answer, but the stress of the day overcame him. His eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp, falling unconscious to the floor.

McGonagall let out a disgusted snort. She pulled out her wand to revive the boy, but the opening of the Hospital Wing door interrupted her. In walked Harry Potter with Luna Lovegood in his arms.

Harry walked silently to the two women and placed Luna on the bed beside Hermione. "Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode attacked her. I found her unconscious," Harry stated. He looked to the floor and brushed his hand through his hair. "He passed out?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded, but McGonagall wasn't about to let his sudden appearance with Luna go that easily. She drew her wand and pointed it at Harry. "What did you do to her?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "To whom are you referring, Professor?"

"Miss Granger."

The temperature in the room dropped noticeably. The flames in the fireplace flickered out. "I would never hurt Hermione," Harry said in a flat, dangerous voice. "Put your wand down and go after the real attacker."

McGonagall didn't stop. She pressed the wand against Harry's neck. Madam Pomfrey grabbed her bicep. "Minerva, what are you doing?"

McGonagall shook her head. "Something's not right. You saw what he did against the dragon." McGonagall shoved off the matron's grip and twisted the wand into the flesh of Harry's neck. "One way or another, I'm about to get to the bottom of this."

* * *

The wand against his throat made Harry freeze. This wasn't the typical McGonagall. While the woman might be stern, she wasn't the type of person to threaten a student, no matter the student. Harry looked out of the corner of his eye to the girl lying unconscious on the bed. A small, almost unnoticeable smile marked Luna's face.

_That bitch played me._ A growl rumbled in the back of Harry's throat. He hated the gods, all of them. Hecate should not have been able to recover that easily from his attack. The sword itself would have been enough to take on a minor god. How had she defended against him? Not only had she defended against him, but she had counterattacked by using McGonagall.

Unfortunately, Harry's options were limited. While he was more than capable of defeating the Headmistress, the magic he would need to push her off him without giving her a chance to cast a spell was too violent to be used in close quarters. It would risk causing permanent damage to everyone in the room. Harry had not cared about hurting the Slytherins, but he cared about the present company, even McGonagall. The woman had been an ear and shoulder to turn to on more than one occasion. He couldn't hurt her.

"Professor, I promise you that I did nothing to either of these girls," Harry said, staring directly into her eyes.

"You lie," McGonagall hissed, her eyes flickering with wild hysteria.

"_You're always so easy to fool, Harry. You need stop thinking the best of people,_"a voiced he was all too familiar with whispered in his head.

_Fuck, _Harry thought to himself. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

"How do you remember?" he asked aloud, ignoring McGonagall.

"_You didn't expect to make the deal with Mab without me knowing did you? You aren't the only wizard I've known to court both winter and summer. But thank to your little confession to sweet, innocent Luna, they all know now. They'll be coming for you, harry._" Luna whispered into his head.

_Fuck, _Harry repeated. Maybe he would make that word his new mantra. It certainly seemed appropriate considering his recent life situations. The first time around, all he had to do was outfly a dragon; now he had to take gods.

"What do you want, Hecate?"

"_For you to die._"

Harry did the only thing he could think of to keep McGonagall from cursing him. Unfortunately it would have consequences. Pushing his magic forward, he held eye contact with McGonagall. It took less than a second for the magic to take hold and drive the pair into a soulgaze.

Harry did not see a witch or even a human. He saw a lioness, proud and strong, only the lioness was not standing or crouching. She was on the ground, struggling against steel razor wire that dug into her fur. Blood oozed all over the lioness, staining her fur. The pain was clear in her eyes, and as she looked up to Harry, he saw a plea for help.

Anger flared in the Boy-Who-Lived. He shoved that fury to the forefront of his mind. The soulgaze broke and McGonagall staggered backward, dropping the wand from Harry's throat. Moving with the speed he used against the dragon, Harry stepped forward and plucked the wand from McGonagall's hand. A stunning spell followed and the professor fell to the floor. Harry turned, holding out McGonagall's wand. He slowed down to a normal pace and handed the wand to Madam Pomfrey.

"Mr. Potter!" the matron exclaimed, unable to think of any other words.

"Forgive me, Madam Pomfrey. You better summon Professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall has been possessed by the goddess of magic."

* * *

"_A goddess. He actually told me that there was a goddess in Minerva. I always expected there was something more to that woman. No one can really look that stern all the time."_

_-From the personal notes of Madam Poppy Pomfrey_

**A/N: Questions or comments? Let me know.**


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